


Lilac Blue

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Djinni & Genies, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Hunter Mary Winchester, Infidelity, Serial Killers, Shameless Smut, Young Mary Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Before doting mother and devoted wife, Mary Winchester, there was stone-face devoted hunter Mary Winchester. This is an account of just one of the cases she tackled.
Relationships: John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Mary Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Lilac Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ralsbecket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralsbecket/gifts).



> I'd like to believe in the Supernatural verse, all serial killers are monsters.
> 
> s/o to my IRL best friend, ralsbecket, who beta-ed this and all its smutty glory

🔪

“Alaska isn’t about who you were when you headed this way. It’s about who you want to become.”

– Kristin Hannah, _The Great Alone_

_🔪_

_Anchorage, Alaska_

_November 2, 1972_

"You really wanna work here?"  
  
Despite his size, his tone is incriminating, and for a second, Mary thinks she has her guy. After all, it makes sense. He's the owner of a strip club, he has easy access to scantily clad women and he has the perfect clientele. No one would bat an eye if Cherry, a busty five-foot-something redhead, went missing. High turnover has to be common in a place like this.  
  
But then he leans back in his chair and spreads his legs. "Show me what you’ve got."  
  
With a sigh she pinches into a scoff, Mary stands up and crosses the floor. For a moment, she eyes the bouncer in the corner, who shrugs with much less enthusiasm. He’s kind of cute, but he seems completely out of place. He’s the kind of guy you’d find in a library, or a museum. With slick brown hair, he dons black-framed cat glasses to highlight big, brown eyes. He’s even got a modest smile, like something you’d carve out of a pumpkin stretching thin and wide across his face.

Ignoring him in favor of the much less attractive owner, she moves closer, stopping just short of him. She thinks of John. John, with eyes like freshly pressed pennies, engraving her name into them after their first date. John, with a smile as crooked as the Zeppelin poster above his bed, torn from one too many times listening to "Since I've Been Loving You.”  
  
John and the future he so clearly sees for them.  
  
John and the photo he carried of her on deployment. He's purposely leaving space in his wallet for more.  
  
John and his optimism.  
  
Then she drops her romper.

Sinking to her knees, she teases the owner with the flat of her hands against his thighs. She starts from the inside and spreads her fingers out across his legs—deliberately skipping his hard-on to grip his hips.  
  
He moans. Not because of the new contact, but lack thereof as Mary mouths at his cock. From the tip to the base, she clothes it in an extra, excruciating layer of heat before traveling up the rest of his body. She stops at his ear, teasing her tongue around the conch. It's salty, like the rim of a margarita glass. To cool off the burn, she dips her tongue into the opening as she mounts him.  
  


Grinning all while she gyrates on his cock, she bends backwards so the front of her lace panties and the underwire of her bra are all he sees.  
  
When she feels him release, she pulls herself forward, long blonde hair spilling over her springy breasts. She peels off his wide rimmed glasses, placing one end in her mouth like a tongue depressor and licking it like a Popsicle. "So, when can I expect a call back?"  
  


🔪

  
She can't help it. The sight of herself in the mirror is too much to handle.  
  
Not only is she wearing a blue lilac lace halter bralette and matching V-cut panties. She's wearing a blue lilac lace halter bralette, matching V-cut panties, and a halo that sheds when she adjusts her right bowtie stocking to better conceal the knife she’s carrying. Every so often, she had to yank her hair out from underneath the straps harnessing her cheap angel wings.  
  
A few of the girls pass by on their way to the stage. They acknowledge her, but it's with clear disdain. Some are tame enough to roll their eyes. Others feel the need to catcall. One girl, Scarlet (not Cherry), hooks her nail through one of the loops of her fishnets and, as casually as a guitar string, plucks it, ripping a hole.  
  
"Whoops."

Mary glances from her fishnets to the bare back of the daring woman. “Cute. But you’re gonna have to try harder than that to ruin my tips. More skin means more attention on me.”

Scarlet stops on the staircase leading to the main stage. Stilettos clanking, she saunters back up to Mary. This time, there’s a different light in her green eyes. Her lips curl into a Cheshire smile. “You got that right,” she growls into her ear before strutting off again.

  
🔪

“Yeah… just like that. _Mhhm!”_

Suppressing an eye roll, Mary slots her breasts between the cool metal again. Even though she hunts monsters for a living, there’s something even less sanitary about a stripper pole.

She sidles down the length of the pole like a spider descending its web until she’s bending at the knees. With one raised leg and an arm to steady her, she then spins in a complete three-sixty, earning her a few whistles—along with a catcall suspicious enough to peer out into the crowd and spot the offender:

_“Let me show you my backwoods, baby!”_

The killer—that’s his M.O.—dragging his victims into the neck of the woods and hunting them down for sport.

But then more start to pour in.

_“Save the trees—I’ll let you go down on my timber!”_

_“I’ll have you seein’ more stars than you can count!”_

_“I’ll send you to Heaven and back!”_

This is gonna be harder than she thought.

Mary’s jolted from the onslaught of catcalls when a hand wraps around hers on her pole and a warm body presses against her front side. Leaning in just over her shoulder, Scarlet whispers, “Meet me in the back alley at midnight.”

🔪

The wall of the back alley is slimy with rain and puke and God knows what else, but this time, Mary doesn’t care. The cold tip of her nose brushes against Scarlet’s clitoris with every uncoordinated thrust, caressing and kissing her labia like it’s some sort of delicate rose pedal inside a larger bud. Scarlet moans, gripping Mary’s knotted-up messy hair tighter as she rides her.

It’s not the first time she’s done this, Mary realizes, but it’s the first time someone’s made her cum this fast.

But Mary doesn’t stop there, and Scarlet doesn’t let her. Before she can struggle with her clip-on stockings attached to her lace, Scarlet yanks Mary up and pins her against the wall. Her oversized bralette straps slip around her shoulders upon impact, exposing her breasts. Scarlet leans back, away from Mary’s desperate attempt at friction.

Then, at long last, Scarlet slots them together. Her vagina is warm and pulsates against Mary’s, still wet from her saliva. It’s not enough to ease the burn of their clits scraping against each other with every thrust, but neither seem to care. Or maybe they care a little too much, judging by the orgasms they unleash in tandem.

As Scarlet pulls up her own panties, she plants a teasing kiss on Mary’s lips. “See you tomorrow night, angel.”

Mary chuckles weakly. Though she won’t admit it, her knees buckle as she catches her breath against the wall.

🔪

_Anchorage, Alaska_

_November 3, 1972_

_One mile north of the Knik River_

Mary struggles to keep her eyes open as his grip around her neck tightens. Her knife wrenches free from her back pocket in one last desperate attempt at escape, clanking against the cabin floor. It’s one of the last things she hears before her vision fades to black.

**_“Hello, Mary.”_ **

_Mary opens her eyes. She’s in a room with lilac blue walls. There’s a crib in the corner. Thunder strikes against the window and the baby inside it cries._

_“Who are you?” she trembles, turning her attention back to the hooded figure._

_The man pulls his hood back to reveal yellow snake eyes._

_Before Mary can react, she’s flung against the ceiling. Heat pools in her stomach. Blood drips and pools onto the floor below her._

_“N-no,” she grits out. “You can’t kill me inside my dream. You_ need _me.”_

_Smiling, the man with yellow eyes lifts his hand and crushes it into a tight fist. She screams, trying to wriggle herself free of his invisible hold as fire licks her flesh like hot sandpaper._

_“Mary!” someone yells from a distance, coupled with the sound of someone ascending stairs. She recognizes the voice as John’s. It’s a blood-curdling scream the louder the fire gets. “_ Mary! Mary!”

Mary blinks a few times. Scarlet’s in front of her, clutching her knife. He’s behind her on his stomach in a pool of dark blue blood.

“H-how… did you—?”

“I did what I normally do when I have dreams about my abusive ex-boyfriend proposing to me,” Scarlet says, using Mary’s knife to cut her from her ropes: “I kill myself to wake up.”

Mary chuckles weakly. Her knees almost give out as she hits the ground before heading back into the woods.

🔪

_24 Hours Earlier_

“Girls like you never go for a guy like me,” he continues, snapping the tube off the IV drip next to a limp Scarlet, strung up by both arms with thick rope. He puts it in his mouth and sucks the liquid out like a straw; its consistency like mashed Boba. When he pulls back, his smile is bloody. “I was the shy, awkward kid with acne and a bad _stu-u-utter_. Since you didn’t give me a chance, I seized the opportunity for myself. It started out with petty theft. A small arson. But then… _then_ I realized my true potential.”

“Which part? Bouncing at local strip clubs or hunting women for sport in the woods? Your mother must be so proud. Why is that, by the way?” she asks. “Why kidnap us, drop us off in the woods, and then capture us again? I thought your kind preferred fast food.”

The man angles his head at her with that same, unrelenting smile. “What? Did your parents ever tell you not to play with your food?”

“Listen, if I’m gonna die here, spare me the cryptic evil villain monologue, Rob,” Mary sighs, resisting the urge to fight against her own bondage as the rope digs into her wrists like knives.

The man’s eyes quirk up at that. “Have we met before?”

“Robert Christian Hansen,” she continues, “You’re thirty-three from Pocahontas, Iowa. You own a bakery. You must have friends in law enforcement, because you got off scotch-free after twenty months for that school bus garage you call a ‘small arson’—not even a single photo of you was published in their database. You’ve even somehow been married twice. You have a couple of kids and, let me guess… .5 on the way? Gotta make sure you’re blending in with that suburban white lifestyle to hide the fact that you’re a Djinn, am I right?”

Hansen nods in realization. “I’ll admit, for a hunter, I’m impressed. I wish I had a pen to give you my autograph, but I know the next best thing.”

With a twisted smile that grows wider as he wraps his hand around her neck, almost instantly, Mary’s engulfed in a lilac blue light. The last thing she hears is Robert saying, “Welcome to your future.”

🔪

_Anchorage Police Department_

_November 4, 1972_

“Just to be clear… you two stumbled across the bodies of the missing girls in the woods _after…”_

“We ran out of water in our canisters while we were hiking, so we came down the trail to the Knik River and there they were,” Mary says in a voice barely above a whisper. She may be good at deception, but the sight of those two women at the riverbank, so mangled and putrefied you couldn’t see the last expression on their faces, isn’t something to just act disturbed by. “That’s when we came straight here.”

“The officer on scene told me us it was gruesome,” the officer says, darting her eyes between the two women sitting in her chairs. “You two are lucky it wasn’t you.”

Scarlet turns to Mary. Mary turns her head, causing her long sleeve shirt—borrowed from Mary’s hotel room on their way to the station—to ride up her arm a little, revealing the rope marks around her wrists. She tugs on the fabric and forces herself to face the officer again.

“Yeah,” she responds with little enthusiasm, “really lucky.”

Once they’re outside, overlooking the Alaskan forest one last time from the PD, Scarlet speaks up: “You sticking around a little while longer?”

Mary turns to her. The Djinn’s implanted nightmare flashes in her mind again. The blood, the fire, John’s blood-curdling screams, his feet pounding the stairway racing save her syncs with her rapidly beating heart.

“Mary?”

Mary’s jolted back with a sharp inhale. Looking out further in the distance, she can see a sliver of the lilac ocean and can’t help thinking of John. It’s patient like him, the way it slowly inches towards the shore again, like a pair of arms reaching for a distant lover.

“No,” she says with confidence. “No, there’s someone I have to get back to.”


End file.
